Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Haydn

“I explored the house with her, room by room, following her as she traced her fingers along the walls, pointing out places she thought would one day hold memories,” I continue my story. “The kitchen. The terrace. The room she wanted to turn into a small studio, filled with light.

“And while she wasn’t watching, I did it. I closed my eyes and saw it,” I say, pausing to take a steadying breath. Even now, I’m afraid to hold on too tightly to that image, afraid it’ll slip through my fingers after today. But it’s still there, as vivid as it was that day. I close my eyes again, just for a second, and I see it. Her and me, older but still stupidly in love. Kids—four of them—because we’d need balance.

I glance at Keane looking like a broken fragment of the man she once loved, and my chest tightens with something I can’t quite name. “She claims I smashed her walls, but she did it first, you know? She broke through mine. Opened me up. Made me believe in something I never thought I’d have. And I fell for her. Fell so fucking hard.”

“I hope you work hard to get better,” I say, my voice low, each word clipped and deliberate. “And I hope you get the fuck out of our lives soon.”

With one last glance, I salute him with a flick of my hand and leave, shutting the door behind me.